


Endless Sea

by Helasdottir



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22564201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helasdottir/pseuds/Helasdottir
Summary: You're trying to teach yourself to become a liability, a little voice whispers. It gets louder on the good days, when he's trying to convince himself that they can last. It's always there, always reminding him of how the world will view him if they learn he's sick, that he will never 'get better'.Niles pushes everyone away, afraid of the pain and too proud to be perceived weak. Gavin pushes back.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 29
Kudos: 187





	Endless Sea

**Author's Note:**

> This is from an old Twitter thread of mine, slightly polished. I did write it on my phone while at work, however, so forgive the quality and any mistakes 🖤

Efficient. Focused. Driven. Those are adjectives the Detroit Police Department's administrative team choose to bestow on Niles when they need a star detective to showcase, a model of service for public relations to quell the tension between officers and civilians. 

His colleagues do not share the same embellished opinions. Those who know Niles are bound to dislike him, encouraged by his own intentional sabotage of any positive personal traits that may attract their admiration.

After years on the force, Niles has achieved his objective: newcomers are warned of his ill temper, lack of flexibility and overall distaste for human interaction. There are always those who push their luck only to find themselves quickly dismissed, turned away by curt, direct answers that are never softened by a friendly tone.

They know not to speak to him outside of work, not to attempt small talk or flattery, not to ask about his personal life. Most importantly, they know not to touch him. That's the underlying purpose of his hostility and emotional distance: erecting an invisible barrier to indicate his discomfort with physical proximity without needing to disclose his medical history for the smallest grain of respect.

Connor says he's exaggerating, having long moved past a reasonable precaution. Niles knows better. 

Niles's birthday comes again. Where Connor's desk piles high with letters, small presents and sweets, Niles finds one lonely, cheaply decorated cupcake sitting by his terminal. He later hears a junior officer bragging to her group that he accepted and ate her gift, only to shut her down - he points out Connor, face still tacky with sugar, licking radioactive red icing from his thumb.

"For a brilliant detective, my brother makes a remarkably mediocre criminal."

Connor chastises him for refusing gifts and making that refusal known without caring for other people's feelings. Niles brushes it aside, same as he does every year. He's made ignoring advice into a second profession.

He works late that night and refuses Connor's kind offer of a celebratory dinner at Hank's house. Niles doesn't need to burden their parties with his avoidance, he's well aware his presence has become dampening and depressive even to personal friends. He does accept Hank's half-hearted, careful hug and the badly wrapped mug that serves as a joint present. A bubble of warmth threatens to form in his chest and is quickly suppressed.

Niles only allows himself true comfort within the walls of his apartment, where he can enjoy hot tea and a generous application anti-inflammatory gel in the carefully crafted nest of pillows that covers his bed. He falls asleep only when the pain and tension give way to exhaustion.

What follows his twenty-eigth birthday is a whirlwind of factors primed to trigger a flare. The new transfers to Central include a hotheaded detective who takes it upon himself to defend the honor of the young officer Niles wronged - going so far as to accuse him of making her cry.

Pride and principle keep Niles from betraying guilt. Instead, he focuses his irritation on the man until the moment they are both called to Fowler's office for a meeting Niles was dreading.

His partner took her vacation months to spend on her newborn child, abandoning him to fate. Now the worst possible scenario comes true as Fowler introduces Gavin Reed as her replacement, a man who is not yet intimidated to the point of backing down from Niles.

After the meeting, Fowler pulls him aside and asks if special accomodations need to be made. Niles feels faint from irritation, feverish from stress, but he will not back down from a challenge. He brushes off his Captain's concerns and decides that Reed is not a worthy distraction.

Unfortunately, he is very persistent in his attempts to distract Niles. Getting him to break composure and raise his voice becomes a game, as does causing him discomfort - knowing Niles dislikes physical contact, Reed invades his personal space with rough shoves, punches to his upper arm, slaps to his upper back. Between the other officers, those are all seen as friendly gestures. Niles has to go home and nurse the lingering pain from each one alongside the humiliation of failing to protect himself.

The expected flare comes at the tail-end of a difficult case. Fowler offers Niles a week away from the station and, this time, he accepts. His colleagues see it as an unfair reward, as special treatment, but Niles cares little for their opinions when his body seizes with pain and prevents him from walking so far as the bathroom without support.

Connor stops by after work to ensure he eats, offering the usual lecture about taking it easy and perhaps seeing a psychologist to treat the stress behind his worse flares. Niles thanks and dismisses him, praying silently that his brother will put up with him a little longer. Connor is one of the few people Niles does not want to drive away.

The pain leaves, as it always does, and Niles fills his empty days with meaningless television and pizza night with North. She also presses him to round out his medical treatment, but she knows how hard it is. North doesn't judge him when he says he's too busy to waste more time with doctors.

Going back to work is almost a relief. His back tenses and his shoulders feel sore by the end of the first day, but Niles feels accomplished and productive - and he's not all that bothered by Reed's wild assumptions about his _vacation_.

Things get worse closer to winter. The cold is unforgiving, attacking his joints and muscles, making it hard to breathe. On top of the physical toll, Niles's old partner returns to work training the younger recruits, cementing his link to Reed. 

Niles is impressed by Reed as a detective. The man is focused, determined and unrelenting when he sets his mind to solving a case, and he is surprisingly perceptive. The issue is only his grating personality and continued amusement with Niles's pain.

 _He doesn't know,_ Niles reminds himself. The few people who are aware of his condition are those who need to know, and Reed is far from that circle. The fear of being uncovered never leaves.

Niles needs to have control over how people view him, how they react to him. He wants to be known for his competence and skill as a detective, not as the sick one, the broken one, the one who needs to take time off every time there's a chase on foot. Thankfully, his colleagues always attribute the latter to being hungover after celebrating an arrest (or sleeping with the Captain, if Reed is to be believed).

His illusion of strength shatters over Christmas. Connor and Hank convince him that simply appearing at the office party will create a good impression, that he doesn't need to be friendly to participate. Niles should know better, but his loneliness speaks louder.

The party itself is dreadful. He aches with the desire to be part of something he can never have, standing to the side as the whole station erupts in laughter and cheer. Niles retreats to stand by the buffet table, using champagne and cheese to wash down his pain. He knows he'll pay for it tomorrow.

It's the ruckus of the party that keep him from hearing danger approach. Reed's footsteps, usually clearly recognizable, are drowned out by the music and the voices. By the time Niles realizes how close they're standing, he doesn't have the time to brace himself.

"Ha! Fancy seeing you here, RoboCop," Gavin starts - loudly - and emphasizes the nickname with a firm shove to Niles's shoulder. He sounds like he's about to say something else, but cuts himself off.

Niles couldn't catch himself. He couldn't prevent the fall that pushed him to lean on the table for support, arms trembling as he struggles to retain a semblance of dignity. Cheerful voices die out and slowly rise in confusion, concern, a small circle of officers beginning to form around them.

It's humiliating. Tears sting Niles's eyes as he forces himself to stand upright, ignoring the pain and the tightness of his throat. He keeps his face impassive as he assures the group it was only a stumble, a mistake - a mistake he _does not make_. 

Reed could leave it at that, realize how unwelcome he is by Niles's side and move on to party with Chen and Miller and their matching antler headbands. He doesn't, of course.

Instead of allowing Niles to slip away in peace, Reed chases after him, his voice a barrage of questions and apologies that only provoke rage. Lacking any personal boundaries, he ends up demanding and explanation from Niles rather than making any progress towards redeeming himself.

"C'mon, Stern, what the fuck was that about?" he asks when they pass through the door into the frigid winter air, grabbing Niles's wrist to prevent an escape. That is the final straw.

Pure adrenaline fueled anger drives Niles to shove Reed against the cold wall of the station, his body strung tight with years of emotional suppression. He speaks before he can stop himself, before realizing rage is just another expression of weakness that can be turned against him.

Reed looks just as surprised as Niles feels. There is nowhere to run once the words come out, once Niles details how disgustingly disrespectful and inconsiderate his partner has been, his voice far louder than it ought to be.

Niles is in tears by the end of it, feeling his cheeks burn in the cold wind. Reed is saying something, his tone laced with genuine guilt, but Niles can't bear to hear it. He marches off to his car and prays the loud, disruptive music on the radio will keep his adrenaline rush going until he reaches safety.

Even at home it proves to be the worst night Niles has had in months. The weight of his mental breakdown intensifies the pain and fatigue until he finds himself under the burning shower stream, face pressed against the tiles floor after his body gives up on holding him upright.

The door is locked because Niles can't bear the thought of Connor finding him in such a state. It's already unbearable without worrying about his pride or the chance this might get back to Amanda and burden her with undue concern.

Niles hates this situation - he hates where his mind goes, hates feeling sorry for himself, hates the helplessness of it all. Beyond even that, he hates himself for suffering from a condition he can't begin to explain.

That's what makes him cry, sob into the hard floor until he has no strength left to continue. His skin turns red where the water falls, his hands wrinkle, and he curls one palm around the edge of the glass door.

It takes him two hours to crawl into bed, hair still dripping by the time he falls asleep. It's a dark, dreamless rest, his body forcing him unconscious in order to recover. 

He wakes up fatigued and about ready to sleep another eight hours, but duty calls. It's a surprisingly pain-free morning, aided by his early dose of Lyrica and a healthy breakfast. The most troublesome aspect of his day is the anxiety, constantly waiting for the whispers and rumors about his health, waiting for Reed to call him on his bullshit.

It never comes.

Reed is civil, distant except for when he brings Niles a fresh cup of coffee as a wordless apology. No one else seems to remember or care about what happened at the party. Niles can breathe again.

Connor eventually asks about it, having heard from someone who saw it first-hand, but Niles finds it easy to reassure him and brush off the issue. The peak in criminal activity around the holidays keeps them too busy for it to come up again, and Connor let's this one slip by without pressure. It's a Christmas miracle.

The new year comes with many drunken car wrecks and family feuds ending in arrests, but Niles is thankful - as horrible as that sounds - to be kept busy. Homicides are also on the rise now, allowing him and Gavin to work through whatever issues they may have by ignoring them for the sake of dead bodies.

A second blessing is Gavin himself, who becomes increasingly tolerable now that making Niles miserable is no longer his goal in life. They share enjoyable conversations every once in a while, discuss case theories openly and even mention plans for the future once or twice. They're both aiming high, clawing their way to a promotion through caffeine and force of will. The common ground helps establish a tentative friendship, and mean taunts become playful banter.

It's enough for Niles to wonder if letting people know is truly such a horrible thing; if having a diagnosis on record will truly break his career. The answer is probably _yes_ , but now he feels hopeful that may change.

 _The first step is to work on yourself_ , his rheumatologist had repeatedly said. When she insists again on his next consultation, Niles caves and schedules an appointment with a psychologist.

He doesn't say much during the first appointment, or the second. He doesn't mention his struggle with cases that feel too personal or images that are too vivid in his mind. He does bring up Connor's engagement to Hank when it happens, how he's happy for them - he truly is - but it hardly seems fair that he and his twin got dealt such different hands.

It's slow going, but the sessions evolve and Niles opens up one secret at a time. It helps to have someone to talk to, someone he knows isn't disappointed in him for being in pain _again_ , bedridden _again_ , hospitalized _again_.

The improvement is noticeable. By the time winter returns, Chen and Miller greet him with warm smiles and strike up casual conversations in the break room. Person doesn't lower her head every time she walks past him. Collins even asks if he's going to be the best man at the wedding, seeming enthusiastic about it. Niles answers honestly: "No, I don't have the time to spare."

This clearly discourages Collins from further conversation about the wedding, but Niles does not mean his work takes precedence over his brother. It was Connor who made it clear Niles shouldn't push himself to plan such an event on top of his already hectic work routine, not to mention his regular visits to different specialists for continued treatment and an ever-changing list of medical examinations.

Perhaps the reason why Niles's own wording bothers him is the lick of truth to it - he's still pushing too hard. There isn't one day when he goes home on time, making up for conversational breaks by doubling his overtime in fear that Fowler will think he's slacking. He has no problem sacrificing his wellbeing to solve a case, and it is hard to train his brain out of it. 

_You're trying to teach yourself to become a liability_ , a little voice whispers. It gets louder on the good days, when he's trying to convince himself that they can last. It's always there, always reminding him of how the world will view him if they learn he's sick, that he will never 'get better'.

It's the constant doubt that keeps Niles from ever talking to Gavin about his health. The knowledge that chronic illness overstays its welcome bitters his mouth when he thinks it might cost him the only friend he made without Connor's assistance.

The truth needs to come out eventually, though, and Niles can't prevent his symptoms from manifesting themselves without permission. If he could, his meticulous control would be externalized through healthier mechanisms.

It happens during a foot chase in one of Detroit's old, run-down industrial areas, outside a crumbling factory building. Niles is going too fast to watch his step, holding his breath to keep his throat from drying as he catches up to the suspect, when he trips and falls. The effect is immediate. His legs already burned and buckled from the strain, it's no stretch for them to give out entirely. He tries to push himself up on trembling arms, but the pain radiates through his entire body, weighing him down against the ground. He feels disoriented, afraid, nauseated - petrified at the realization he can't muster enough strength even to swallow.

His arms can't hold out any longer. He collapses to the ground, scraping his cheek on the concrete, too fatigued to cry for help. His whole body shakes, muscles spasming at random, intensifying the pain beyond what he can rationalize as safe.

When Gavin finds him, Niles is spread out on the dirty surface in a pool of his own spit, face covered in tears and snot that escape involuntarily. He doesn't try to look up, hoping it means he won't be seen - a childish thought, but one that brings him comfort. He doesn't want to disappoint Gavin, to be blamed for their suspect's escape, to be a burden to the partnership they had struggled to form in the first place.

Gavin approaches, the soles of his shoes quite loud against the sand coating the concrete. Niles closes his eyes and prays, though he's not sure what he prays for. He can't see Gavin kneeling by his side, reaching for him with firm and gentle hands. It's a shock to his system when they touch for the first time in months.

Acid tickles the back of his throat when Gavin pulls him into a sitting position, maneuvering Niles against the nearest thick, rusty pillar in order to grant some support. Another shameful line of saliva dribbles from his mouth and Niles opens his eyes, looking for disgust on his partner's face. He's met with nothing but genuine concern.

"Sorry 'bout that. The floor's fucking dirty." Gavin takes off his jacket as he speaks, then tucks his hand into fabrit's softic hood. Niles is confused until Gavin begins to use it to clean his face of the gross mess it's become.

"I know I'm being an ass and all that, but I'm not leaving you like this. I'm gonna quit touching in a second-"

"No," Niles interrupts, his voice raw. He's not entirely sure why he says it, and neither is Gavin. They hold each other's gaze for a moment, and then the thick cloth is wiped down over his chin to collect the last of the goo and dirt.

"No?"

"You are not being an ass."

Gavin doesn't ask and Niles doesn't elaborate. They sit there for a while, Gavin half-settled on the ground as Niles tries to count every symptom of this particular flare-up so he can relay them to his rheumatologist. She's going to love this.

When the sun begins to set, this area of the city gets dark fast. That's when Gavin moves almost impulsively, stopping just short of laying his hands on Niles. He leans back. "Look, we gotta get back and I don't think you're gonna be walking."

"Incredibly perceptive analysis." Niles almost flinches at his own cold response, the emotional armor returning naturally in his distress. He frowns, nods softly to himself, and allows his newly tight muscles to relax. "Please, help me back to the car."

No part of it is truly comfortable, but Niles is relieved when Gavin lifts him and takes on most of his weight. He's careful without walking on eggshells, as if he knows now strength is more helpful than a gentle touch. 

Niles falls into the passenger seat with a hard exhale and curses his watery eyes. Gavin thankfully never brings them up, simply taking his seat behind the wheel.

Niles is halfway through talking his face into donning a mask again when he realizes Gavin isn't driving them to Central. When he opens his mouth to speak, Gavin cuts him off with a loud tongue click.

"Look, this is- I don't know how to deal with this shit, so you gotta tell me. You wanna go home or to the hospital? Like, is this normal?"

" _Normal_ may not be the best word. It's not that frequent." Niles crosses his arms over his chest and curses his burning muscles, and the particularly stubborn one in his forearm that keeps contracting involuntarily. He thinks about Gavin's question and shifts his weight on the seat, trying for a minimal level of comfort. "Hospital. I can probably handle this at home, but we need to finish this case-"

"You're not seriously gonna work tomorrow. Doesn't Fowler know about this stuff?"

"He knows. He's also aware that I will not allow my condition to make me an unreliable officer." Niles knows the defensiveness in his tone is rude, but he feels the need to justify his choices. He doesn't appreciate the way Gavin looks at him next.

"You're not unreliable for being in pain. That's bullshit."

"It's not that bad. My work is rarely affected." Niles looks out the window because Gavin's face is soft and he can't stomach that now, can't think about the way it makes him feel. "These episodes are exceptions."

"It's that bad now. And the drug bust last month - I noticed you spent almost half an hour in the bathroom after you sent in the paperwork; you gonna say that was nothing? Or the day you took off after that-"

"I remember. I did not expect you to, but I remember. It's not that bad."

"Sure, Stern." Gavin sighs and flicks on the radio as he takes the turn towards the nearest hospital, and Niles is thankful for the distance between them. He swallows the frustrated sob that threatens to ruin the appearance of stability, instead focusing on the music in an attempt to escape the other signals his brain is receiving.

Gavin helps him into the waiting room, but he doesn't try to talk for or over Niles when the triage nurse calls them in and asks questions. He simply hangs back and watches, and Niles feels thankful enough to nearly cry for a completely different reason.

The pain increases emotional responses, that's all.

Once they go through, Niles tries to tell Gavin that he can leave and not worry about lingering uselessly while Niles receives the slow drip of medicine from an IV.

Gavin stays. Niles tries not to look too relieved. 

The next morning, Gavin sets a cup of tea on his desk and sinks into the chair opposite to him, behind his own computer terminal. 

"What's this?" Niles asks, though he can smell it. Green tea brewed strong, although it's from a bag instead of a loose blend. Gavin only ever brought him coffee before this.

"Internet says green tea helps," Gavin says with a strange pause, and Niles is touched to notice it's because he wants to ensure no one overhears him. "It helps reduce inflammation and all that shit, I thought - well, you don't have to fucking drink it."

Niles would usually comment that his pain is not primarily inflammatory, but now he feels that would simply discredit Gavin's effort. He doesn't need to know more details. Niles takes a sip of the tea and allows the warmth to ease the tightness in his chest, the strain on his lungs.

"Thank you."

Somehow, it's another month before Niles realizes Gavin has wormed himself into his inner circle. He's started informing his partner when his pain level is abnormally high, answering honestly when Gavin asks him if he's taken his medication, allowing Gavin to take the lead in physically demanding cases. He doesn't slack, by any means, but becomes more accepting of his own limits because Gavin stubbornly refuses to judge him for them.

There's a noticeable improvement in his condition. He wakes up less often during the night, suffers fewer panic attacks, stress fevers sudden nosebleeds while on the job, and finds healthier ways to manage his bad days.

It's another few months before a fight with a suspect on what was supposed to be a simple case sends him back into the hospital. This time he stays overnight, but Gavin is there when he wakes up. He's there and they're _holding hands_ , though Gavin pulls away the moment he sees Niles is awake.

"Oh, hey. You scared the crap out of me."

"I apologize. Shouldn't you be at work?"

"Fowler let me take the morning off to make sure you're not gonna be an idiot and march out of here before you're ready. You know you fucked up your ribs, right?"

"They're not broken," Niles replies, and he smiles because the heavy medication makes him unable to hold back. "He's going to make me take the week off, isn't he?"

"Damn right he is. Look, I do have to get back to Central, but d'you want me to grab you anything to eat? Hospital food is gross."

"I'm alright." Niles glances back at the mattress, Gavin's hand still resting on the edge of it, and swallows his nervousness. Holding hands doesn't hurt.

He's not sure what inspires the courage - the drugs can take the blame - but he reaches for his partner's hand and holds it firmly, interlacing their fingers.

"Niles?"

"I'm not alright. I will be, and then I won't, but that's okay. I think- that's okay."

"Yeah. Yeah, it is." Gavin grins again, that beautiful crooked smile, and Niles watches as the scar across his nose winkles slightly. "You're a stubborn fuck, this clearly won't stop you."

Niles laughs softly, enough to feel the damage to his ribs, and sinks back against the soft pillows. "No."

Gavin looks down at their joined hands and seems to contemplate something, then rolls his lower lip between his teeth before speaking. "Look, I know we haven't hung out outside of work and you just tolerate me when you're fucked up on drugs, but call me if you need anything. Not just the pain thing, anything. I'm not saying this to be an asshole but I don't think you've got a lot of friends, and Connor's off trying on dresses or some shit, and I've got Wednesday off-"

"Gavin." Niles leans his head slightly to one side and meets Gavin's eyes with honest warmth and affection. "I'd appreciate it if you could visit me on Wednesday. Bring snacks."

"Right. Right, I'll be there."

And so begins Niles's week away from work, another miserable affair during which he consumes far too much meaningless entertainment and is far too aware of the time between his medications and the exercises he needs to do to minimize the pain.

Gavin arriving on Wednesday feels like the sun peeking through dark clouds. He's still respectful of Niles's previously established boundaries, careful not to initiate contact even when they sit close together on the couch and Niles decimates him on Mario Kart.

They watch a movie after that, and Gavin doesn't complain when Niles pauses the film twice to get up and stretch; he even offers to refill his water bottle during that time.

There isn't a clear instigator: they somehow go from discussing the unrealistic conflict of the movie to intently watching the climax, and at some point Niles ends up pressed close to Gavin's side with a strong arm around his shoulders. It's warm and comfortable and he's spent too long without a significant pleasant physical input from another person, so the unspilled tears wetting his eyes are entirely justified.

Gavin seems to understand, from then on, that his touch isn't entirely unwelcome. He begins brushing his hand against Niles's arm when they're working, or gently touching his shoulder, or nudging him with just enough pressure to be felt.

Niles stops being so easily brought to tear, growing used to this strange new feeling of being comfortable with someone else entering his bubble. He even encourages it, begins reaching for Gavin and reciprocating his small expressions of affection.

They agree to have dinner together - not as a date, but to get away from only being work friends. The handholding at the end of the night was not on the cards, but as they rest on the hood of Gavin's car and look up at the pollution that hides the stars, Niles can't find a single reason to complain.

There's a kink in his back by the time he gets home, likely from the unorthodox practice of sitting on top of a car, but he's not immensely frustrated with it.

When he has his next bad flare, he texts Gavin immediately after alerting Connor. His partner is at his door not long after the end of his shift. He cooks dinner for Niles and they eat on the couch, Gavin talking about Tina's latest fling with an officer from another precinct. 

When he touches Niles after collecting the plates, the flash of pain is hot and instant. Niles doesn't try to hide it and Gavin doesn't make a big deal out of it, offering an apology and a blanket. They watch videos of a man getting stung by insects and Gavin takes a beer from the fridge. 

It's a good night, for what it is, and Niles visibly rolls his eyes when Gavin insists on staying until he's sure Niles has taken his nightly medication.

They don't hug goodbye. Niles smiles as he falls asleep.

With the newfound routine of care and stability, Niles manages to attend Connor's cake tasting and remain in high spirits through most of the event. It feels like a big accomplishment, one he gladly tells Amanda about when she calls to check on him.

Connor is also the one who comments that he seems happier, more comfortable, more outgoing. Niles knows it's a bait - they share the same bullpen, Connor has seen him with Gavin - but he still bites, and tells Connor about their unlikely friendship.

He doesn't overthink Connor's knowing smile.

Things evolve slowly. Dinner with Gavin becomes a weekly arrangement, then biweekly. Their schedule changes drastically from week to week due to work and Niles's health, but they meet up whether it's a restaurant or a homecooked meal, or even cheap takeout.

Niles has a different flare as a result of a bad takeout meal and ends up locked in the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet with tears rolling down his cheeks. 

Gavin sits on the other side of the door, knocking gently every few minutes to check in and ensure that Niles is conscious and not needing immediate help. He eventually starts knocking to the tune of Do You Want to Build a Snowman, which makes Niles laugh into the porcelain bowl.

When the pressure and the pain eases, the nausea fades away. Niles stands on shaky legs and thoroughly brushes his teeth, but he almost collapses into Gavin's arms once the bathroom door is unlocked.

He doesn't remember falling asleep. 

When Niles hears his alarm in the morning, it's followed by someone else groaning a string of curses and tugging at the blankets that cover him.

It takes a moment to realize it's only Gavin, and another to remember that nothing happened. He sighs and swipes his screen to dismiss the next alarm.

There's movement on the bed, and Niles has to force himself to breathe slowly when he feels Gavin's warmth against his back.

"Hey, Ni. How're you doing?"

He considers the answer, shifts his weight slightly and presses his face into the pillow it rests on. "Tired."

Gavin grunts an agreement and the warmth leaves. Niles almost chases it, but he can't bring his body to obey his desires, so instead he mutters something about not wanting to work.

"Work? We have the day off, remember?" Gavin eases up his monopoly on the covers and allows Niles more comfort, then breathes a laugh at the little sound of confusion that leaves his throat. "Get back to sleep."

Niles nods, too tired to fight him, and closes his eyes. He thinks he dreams about strong arms and a soft body pressed against his.

Waking up a second time means realizing his shoulder has locked up because he spent the whole night on his side, but also that Gavin _is_ pressed against his back, an arm slung around his middle. 

Niles leans against his chest, sighs at the battling sensations, and then turns to rest on his back. He rolls his shoulder slowly and groans, but offers a small smile when Gavin blinks awake and looks at him. 

"Good morning."

"Hey." Gavin yawns and adjusts his arm over Niles's stomach, then seems to realize what he's doing because he pulls away at once. 

"Shit. Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine. It's fine, it helps." Niles swallows and uses his good arm to reach for Gavin, bringing him back to the same position and holding his hand. "You help."

"I can't do shit about your pain, how does that help?"

"You're not my doctor, I don't need you to help the pain." Niles sighs and intertwines their fingers, feeling his face heat. "I need someone who understands this isn't going away, but it doesn't make me useless."

"It's not fucking particle physics, anyone can understand that."

"You'd think so." Niles shakes his head and then grimaces as he rolls his shoulder again, though it does help ease the soreness. "Reality doesn't follow that logic."

"More like 'people are dicks', but sure, go with that." 

"Gavin. Let me say this?"

"Oh. Sorry."

"I used to think you were just an asshole who didn't respect anyone, but you proved me wrong when you changed your behavior as soon as you learned it was hurting me. You've stayed by my side and supported me, but not coddled me, and you haven't tried to keep me from my work." Niles watches Gavin's expression, still half-asleep and clearly confused as to where this is going, and smiles again. "I don't understand why, but you accepted me without judgment. I hope - I'm asking - if you'll accept more of me. You're free to say no, I-"

"Wait. Wait, back up." Gavin props himself up on his elbow and blinks a few times, probably to ensure he's awake. "Are you asking me out?"

"Ah. Yes, I am."

"Oh, holy shit." For a moment, Niles isn't sure what that means. Relief washes over him when Gavin's face twists into a grin, followed by joyful laughter. "Yes. Yeah, Niles, sure, I'll take more of you. What the fuck kind of romance is that?"

"Oh, please." Niles tugs at Gavin's arm and moves their bodies closer, accustomed enough to not visibly react to his shoulder when it tenses again. They look at each other, almost sharing a breath, and then press their lips together for the first time.

It's far from the last.

Niles melts into it and knows that his pain may not ever go away entirely, that his flare-ups will come and go, but also that pain does not control him.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Twitter @xhelasdottir.


End file.
